Certainty
by argylegargoyles
Summary: Just a cute little post-mockingjay/pre-epilogue story about Peeta and Katniss "growing back together."


Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or any of its characters.

This is just a cute little story I made to fulfill my love of Peeniss/Everlark/whatever you want to call them. It takes place after Mockingjay but before the Epilogue.

* * *

"It's good right?" Peeta asks as I take a bite of the warm, freshly baked bun. This is a new recipe of his, and it is filled with some sort of delicious melted cheese. My mouth is too full to answer him, so I nod my head vigorously and give him the thumbs up.

He looks pleased, and I'm glad, because I know how important baking has become to him. It's a part of his therapy, because it helps bring a sense of normalcy back to his life. His family and old home are gone now, but he has started his own bakery in our new district twelve, and it seems to be helping him. He has also started experimenting with new recipes, and I have the job of trying them all out. I do not mind this one bit. Although there have been a few flops, most of the recipes he makes up are amazing, and it helps keep things interesting. Plus, it really makes me smile when I see him looking proud of himself.

It's getting later but not quite late enough to go to sleep. We decide to watch a movie to pass the time. Picking out a movie is always a bit of an ordeal, because anything that deals with war, rebellion, or death is bound to trigger bad memories in both of us still. Not to mention anything with sisterly love will just remind me of Prim, and anything that talks too much about the importance of family will remind Peeta that his is gone. This is why we tend to opt for movies instead of television. We can't control what we see on TV, and some things we just aren't ready for.

We decide on a simple, stupid romantic comedy. I can tell it won't actually be that great of a movie, but it won't be painful and it will give us something to discuss and probably make fun of together. I sit on my couch and he joins me, sitting a few inches away. These moments are always a bit strange for us. We are so used to pretending to be a couple that now, when we can just be friends, we aren't exactly sure how that goes.

The movie is just as stupid as I expected, but we have a good laugh about it. It's interesting watching people get all worked up about these issues when we have been through what we have. A part of me wants to yell at the characters to stop complaining when they have food and homes and loving families, but instead I laugh it off. As the girl is discovering that the surly, sarcastic hottie does in fact care about her more than her lying boyfriend, I start to get very sleepy. Peeta must be able to tell, because he says "You know you can lie down if you're tired," and scoots over on the couch.

The offer sounds good so I shift into a laying position, my head resting in Peeta's lap. This is far more physical contact than we have had as of late, but we act like it's a normal thing. I am more tired than I thought I was, and it is an effort to keep my eyes open. I don't really care about what happens with the whiney girl and the somehow lovable asshole, so I let myself drift off into sleep.

This was a bad idea. Suddenly it is the morning of the reaping and my mother is fixing my hair. Prim comes in, her mouth opens, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream. Then flames engulf her, and I try to run to her but somehow I am shackled to the wall and I can't come to her rescue. I am screaming, and pulling on my chains as hard as I can, fighting to save my sister.

The next thing I know, I am being shaken and Peeta's voice is in my head shouting "Katniss! Katniss wake up! It's okay, everything's okay!" I snap my eyes open and see Peeta leaning over me looking concerned. The movie is over and the credits are rolling, with an annoying, upbeat song about accidentally falling in love playing in the background. I know I have just had a nightmare. Peeta knows just how to handle this situation; after all, he used to be with me every night when I had them. However, it has been quite a while since this has happened. I always wished he was there when I went to sleep, because he is so good at comforting me, but it never seemed right to ask after the hijacking. I know that he still has trouble with the venom, and I would hate to trigger something unwelcome, so I have kept my distance, at least physically.

But now Peeta is hugging me tightly to his chest, and I wrap my arms around his waist. His body feels warm and comforting against mine, and with my ear pressed to him I can hear his steady heartbeat. This is a very welcome feeling. For the first time in a long time I feel Peeta's comfort, which I have been craving. I didn't even realize until now how much better this would make me feel.

"Do you still have them every night?" He asks.

I nod, burying my face further into his chest. He runs his hand soothingly through my hair. "Me too," he says. I remember him telling me once that his nightmares were usually about losing me, and that he felt better once he knew I was there. I wonder whether being tortured and hijacked has affected that at all. Would my presence at night still help him through, or would it be harder on him?

"I miss having you there at night," I admit. He releases me from his grip but keeps his hands resting on my shoulders as he looks me directly in the eyes. I realize when he looks at me that we also haven't been making very much eye contact lately, and I am now struck by his gentle, honest blue eyes. Those eyes that always look at me with love in them.

"Me too," he says again. He continues looking me in the eyes as he says "I sort of miss everything about being with you." I am a bit taken aback by this statement. We have been spending a lot of time together, possibly even more than we did when we were the star-crossed lovers of district twelve. And yet I know what he means. Our current relationship is not unpleasant, but we are much more reserved around each other. And I miss him too.

"I should probably get going though, it's getting late," he says as he stands up.

"No!" I protest, a little too suddenly, reaching out my hand to stop him. I see the corners of his mouth flick upwards. He was hoping I would stop him, I can tell. "Maybe you can stay over tonight. In case I have another nightmare. But you don't have to, if it's too-"

"No, I'd love to stay over," he answers, cutting me off, and I am grateful because I'm not exactly sure what I was going to say next.

I feel a great wave of relief wash over me knowing that Peeta will be with me tonight. I always dread going to sleep because I know what I will face in my dreams. It's a little bit better when I know I won't be facing it alone. Suddenly I feel regretful that I haven't been spending all of these nights with Peeta, knowing how much more rest I would have gotten. But maybe it would have been too soon. Maybe now that we are getting more comfortable in our friendship, and he has made progress in his therapy, we are ready to spend an entire night together.

We go upstairs but as I walk into my bedroom he doesn't follow. "Are you coming?" I ask.

"Well, I figured I'd let you change first. I mean, I wouldn't exactly mind, but I think you might prefer it this way," he says with a teasing smirk.

"Oh, right," I say with an embarrassed laugh. I can't really tell what he means by that statement. He could either be implying that he wouldn't mind seeing me naked, or he could be making fun of me once again about my sensitivity to nudity. If it is the former, that's awfully bold of him considering the reserve we still have with each other. If it is the latter, I should be a little annoyed. Instead, I just decide to ignore the comment altogether, and I shut my bedroom door behind me.

I pull my clothes off and toss them hastily on my floor. I cross over to my closet to find something to wear to bed. However, as I walk across the room, my big toe catches hard on the corner of my dresser. I let out a yelp of pain that probably suggests a far worse injury than I have actually received. Almost instantly Peeta rushes through the door to come to my rescue. He looks perplexed to find me sitting on the corner of my bed in only my bra and underwear holding my throbbing toe.

"I stubbed my toe," I explain, too focused on my pain to really care about whether or not the situation is awkward. Peeta, however, whose toe is not in pain, turns a deep shade of red and manages to splutter out the words "Sorry! I didn't…I thought….Sorry!" before hurriedly exiting and shutting the door behind him. Apparently I am not the only person who gets uncomfortable with nudity. And I wasn't even fully naked!

As the pain subsides, I feel like a bit of a wimp for reacting that strongly to the smallest injury I have ever received, but I am slightly comforted by how well I kept my calm when Peeta came in, considering his extreme reaction. I go over to my closet and put on a pair of soft cotton shorts and a loose-fitting t-shirt, and then I open the door to find a still pink Peeta sitting against the wall hugging his knees. I actually laugh out loud at the sight.

"I'm sorry Katniss," he mumbles.

"Don't worry about it. It's nice to know you've got my back," I say sincerely. I'm not sure what danger he thought I was in, but it is nice to know how quickly he will act to protect me, the way we always have protected each other.

"Of course," he replies. "If I ever let anything happen to you, I couldn't live with myself." That seems a little intense considering the lack of danger we have faced tonight, but I know that he isn't talking about tonight.

"Well, next time I go through the agony of stubbing my toe, I'll try to be less naked so you can help me out," I joke, hoping to lighten the mood. This time he laughs too. We go into my room and get comfortable under the covers on my bed. It's strange how right it feels to have him here. I would expect it to be somewhat awkward after all this time but I am so comforted in his arms. I feel a sense of peace rush over me and I fall asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Peeta spending the night becomes a daily routine. We don't even question it. He spends the day working at his bakery, I spend my day hunting, we have dinner with Haymitch, and then Peeta spends the night. We start to lose our physical reserve we have had with each other. Now we sit closer on the couch, with our legs touching slightly. We even walk closer together, with our hands sometimes bumping together. When we joke we playfully nudge each other, and when conversations get serious, we comfort each other more physically, putting our arms around each other, sometimes embracing.

One night I wake suddenly from my nightmares and my head slams against the headboard. Peeta wakes up, either because of the sound or my cries of pain. "What happened?" he asks, concerned.

"I hit my head!" I whine, once again feeling like a bit of a wimp considering we've been through so much worse.

But Peeta still somehow understands. "Ohh, Katniss," he says sympathetically, taking me in his arms and kissing the top of my head. I'm old enough to know that lips don't have magical healing powers, but somehow it still makes me feel a little better. Once I stop wincing in pain, he adds "Is this house a little too dangerous for you?" This causes us both to double over with laughter.

He continues with his joke. "I mean, we can send in a complaint if you want. This is victor's village, we're supposed to have the best of the best, but this place is clearly an accident waiting to happen."

"Maybe we should cover everything with bubble wrap," I suggest. He laughs at the idea, and I realize how grateful I am to have him here. If Peeta didn't live in district twelve, I doubt I would really laugh at all. It's not that I don't enjoy Haymitch's company, but Peeta is the only one who can truly make me forget my troubles, even if only for moments at a time.

Impulsively I lean in and kiss his lips gently. This is the first time I have ever kissed him without The Capitol having something to do with it. He looks surprised, but a small smile crosses his lips. I can tell he is pleased but my actions have puzzled him. This makes sense; I am confused myself about what I meant by that kiss, so how would he possibly be able to understand it? For a moment we both sit in silence, taking in what just happened.

It shouldn't be a big deal, as we have kissed countless times in the past. And now that I think about it, not all of my kisses were motivated by our need to convince people of my fake love for him. There were certainly times when I desired The Boy With the Bread. But even if we both felt the passion behind those kisses, those excuses had still been there to blame it on.

Now there are no cameras, no need to pretend anything. Now there is only Peeta and me sitting perplexed in my bed, not saying a word, my lips still tingling from the brief contact they are not used to receiving. The silence is becoming too long, and I want to say something to break it. But what would I say? I love you? I'm still not sure if I do, and the last thing I want to do is break Peeta's heart again.

I hope that he will say something witty or clever to break the silence. He's good at that. But instead he simply says, "We should get some sleep." I agree and we settle back into the bed, his arms wrapping protectively around me as usual as we prepare to face the nightmares. I sneak a glance at his face and see that he is still wearing a smile.

* * *

Weeks have passed since I kissed Peeta and neither of us has mentioned it. He still spends every night in my bed, and we spend a lot of time together otherwise, although not always alone. We have not kissed since, but there are other displays of affection. When we walk places together, our hands are always intertwined. I'm not even sure who initiates it, it just seems like such a natural action. When we rest together at home, the affection is even more evident. When we sit next to each other, his arm goes around my waist, and my hand usually rests on his knee. Sometimes my head rests on his shoulder or his lap, and he plays with my hair, bringing me back to that night on the roof. I know that this is how couples act, and that I am probably further confusing myself with these actions, but his presence is so comforting to me that I can't help myself.

Occasionally I catch Haymitch giving me quizzical looks when I'm with Peeta. I can tell he's just itching to corner me and lecture me about it, so I avoid being alone with him as much as possible. However, as usual, Haymitch is too smart for me.

I am beginning to clear the plates from dinner when Haymitch lets out a big, attention-grabbing yawn and says, "You know what I could use? Some more wine."

"I think you've had enough to drink," I retort.

"Enough with the sass sweetheart. You're ruining family dinner time." I roll my eyes at him. Haymitch is always talking about "family dinners" as if we are the Brady's instead of a very dysfunctional trio. I don't actually mind but I like to pretend that it annoys me. He ignores me and turns to Peeta. "Peeta, since you actually like me, go get another bottle of wine from my house, will you?" At this moment I know exactly what Haymitch is doing.

"No!" I object, knowing right away that I sound suspiciously panicked. "Don't make Peeta go out of his way just to get you more drunk."

"I don't mind Katniss, it's literally right down the street," Peeta says, laughing slightly at my overreaction. "I'll be back soon!"

And before I can do anything about it Peeta is gone, leaving Haymitch and me alone in my kitchen. I try to look busy, taking my time to pile all of the dishes in the sink. But I know this conversation is now unavoidable.

"So. You and Peeta. What's going on there?" He gets straight to the point. Clearly he knew I was expecting this.

His ability to know what I'm thinking so well infuriates me, but if I act upset he will know he struck a nerve, so I try to come across very casually as I say "Oh, us? We're just friends," and smile. But Haymitch can read me like a book.

"Right. Just friends." That is all he says, but his meaning is clear. He does not agree.

"What do you want me to do, spend all my time alone?" Now I am getting defensive, but I don't know what to say that will get him to leave me alone on this issue.

"Oh no, I don't see anything wrong with the amount of time you spend together. I was more talking about the handholding. The cuddling. The flirting. The way you spend every single night together." How does he even know that? "Friends my ass."

"Haymitch, you're drunk," I reply, the only defense I can think of.

"Yeah, I am. Since when does that mean I'm not right?" He has a point. And I know I should stop playing dumb and just tell him what's going on inside my head. After all, since he seems to know everything, maybe he'll know what to do.

"I just don't know," is all I can manage to say. I've never been very good at putting my thoughts into words, even if I've been thinking about something for weeks.

"You don't know how you feel about Peeta," Haymitch clarifies, and I nod. He lets out a big sigh. Then his tone becomes much kinder. "Sweetheart, I know you're confused. And of course you are. After everything you've gone through with that boy, you're not sure which feelings are real, and which are fake, left over from your pretend relationship. But the funny thing is, Peeta is the one who had his mind tampered with, and he's the one who is sure. I can guarantee you that boy knows he loves you. He's loved you since you were five years old. And he's being awfully patient with you." I gulp down my guilt, knowing he is right. As always. "If you think you have a lot on your mind with this, think about him," Haymitch continues. "You're acting like you're his girlfriend, God knows you've probably even kissed him." Okay, it is officially scary how accurate Haymitch is. "And he has no idea what your intentions are. I think you owe it to him to figure it out."

He has not tried to make me feel guilty, but I feel terrible. I do have a tendency to think only of what I am feeling. I am just now realizing the roller coaster of emotion I am putting Peeta through once again. At this moment, I am determined to figure out my feelings for Peeta. But I'm still not sure how. Haymitch seems to sense this.

"Have you ever thought about bringing it up with him and talking it out? Maybe he has something to say about it. Who knows, it could help you both figure some things out."

For a drunkard, Haymitch is really pretty smart. Of course I should talk to Peeta about this. But how am I supposed to bring it up? _I have some sort of feelings for you that may or may not be love but I really have no idea._ Yeah, that will make things simpler. Sure.

This is when Peeta comes back and so the conversation ends. I think Peeta can tell that we were talking about him, but since I'm supposed to bring this up to him anyway at some point, it's okay that he's suspicious.

After Haymitch leaves it's already getting late, so Peeta and I decide to head to bed early. As we settle in, my thoughts are racing trying to find a way to bring up our last kiss. Why did I wait this long? It would have been easier to talk about it right after. Just as I'm finally working up the courage to say something, it is Peeta who speaks.

"So Katniss. You know we don't have to pretend to be lovers anymore."

"What do you mean?" I ask, feigning innocence. He is doing the work for me, opening the topic for discussion, and yet I still can't bring myself to say something about it.

"You know what I mean. The cameras are gone, but here we are, all wrapped up in your bed." This actually does catch me by surprise. I have thought about the kiss, and about our other daily displays of affection, but it has not really occurred to me that us sleeping in my bed is anything out of the ordinary. After all, that was something we always did not because of the cameras, but for our own comfort through the night. But now that he mentions it, it isn't really normal. It isn't even just that we are sharing a bed, it's the way we lie in it. We are intertwined like lovers.

"I know," I say quietly.

"It's okay if you don't want to be with me," he continues. "I'm happy enough being your friend, and I still want to be there for you in any way you need me. But I wish I knew what exactly I was to you. Because once I know, I can come to terms with it."

It doesn't even occur to me until now that Peeta could be finding another girl. Right now he's devoting everything he has to me, but if I let him go, maybe he could be with someone else and be happy. As soon as I think this, my chest feels tight and I can feel a hard lump form in my throat. Clearly I don't like that idea.

"Peeta, I don't just see you as a friend," I tell him. That much I know for sure.

"So what am I?" He asks. I wish I knew. In response I pull myself closer to him and press my lips onto his, first gently, then a bit more forcefully. He kisses me back, sliding his arms around me. One hand is on the back of my head and the other is around my back, pulling me closer. I feel again what I have felt exactly twice before: a longing to kiss him more. And this time there is nothing to stop us, nothing to interrupt. We continue in this manner, growing more passionate, and my thoughts are being wiped clean, replaced by the simple phrase: _I need Peeta._

How could I have ever doubted this? I know he has been the one thing holding me together this whole time. Seeing him is what I look forward to every day, and he gets me through every night. He has saved my life on more than one occasion, expecting nothing in return, and I know he would do anything for me. Peeta. The boy with the bread. But he is more than that. He has the purest heart of anyone I have ever met. He is loyal, kind, and gentle. He can always make me smile, make me laugh, even when I've been to hell and back. I know that I am a mess, and I probably always will be, but if anybody is going to get me through with any sanity, it is Peeta.

At last he pulls away, his breathing heavy. He looks me again directly in the eyes, and asks, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I know he isn't asking this because of the tracker jacker venom. He is not clarifying a memory. He is clarifying the present. It's the same question I have been asking myself for weeks. And I can finally answer with absolute certainty.

"Real."

* * *

Edit: I've decided to turn this into a trilogy. If you guys want to stay tuned, I am currently working on part two!


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